What did he just say? The demon king of Maledictus?
Serein was lowered until she was eye level with Deimos. That old, acrid smell peculiar to the dungeons thickened around him, pushing aside the perfume that had once cloaked his body.
That smell, despite how many years had passed, still turned Serein's stomach.
She covered her nose with one hand and narrowed her eyes at Deimos, studying the bloodbright irises and the black horns on his head. Dim, iridescent scales shimmered across his skin beneath the yellow light. Black smoke rolled off him and trembled in the air, as if it were alive. He looked, in every detail, like a demon crawling up from the depths.
Yet Serein lived in a world of ruin. She did not believe in gods, nor in devils.
She bent her head and watched the black vapor that clung to her body. It was the same kind of miasma she had seen radiating from the Hellforged Knights' armor.
